Part of the Plan
by knightshade
Summary: Bonnie goes undercover to help Michael and Kitt capture a serial killer. Has she gotten in over her head?


Title: Part of the Plan

Author: knightshade

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Bonnie goes undercover to help Michael and Kitt capture a serial killer. Has she gotten in over her head?

Warnings: So … serial killer, but nothing graphically described. Only hinted at. A little creepiness here and there and some violent moments, but mostly innuendo.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. The late Mr. Glen A. Larson and Universal do.

Notes: So I found the first scene when poking through my hard drive. It was only ever intended to be a one-scene one shot – a little creepy thought piece about being stalked by a serial killer. I figured I'd polish it up and post it. However, the muse thought the trunk scene would be interesting to write and then there had to be the garage scene and after that the hospital scene was practically required and before you know it, it became vaguely plotty. So there you have it.

**Part of the Plan**

Leaves and branches encroached on the dark path like a cold draft seeping into a room. The breeze carried the cloying scent of fresh mulch and pollen heavy flowers. Bonnie tried not to let her eyes dart back to where she knew the red tracking light of Kitt's scanner had flickered and gone out. She didn't want to give them away. Any of them.

Bait. She couldn't help thinking of a worm or minnow writhing on a hook. About to be a victim. Or maybe already a victim.

They knew the killer they were after found his targets on campus – they had all disappeared from the sidewalks along the university's tree-covered grounds. They were all brunettes, all medium stature, and all with long hair. Michael was banking on the fact that in the dark it wouldn't be apparent that Bonnie was a little older than the average student. He had gone over the plan with her several times, trying to impart nearly half a lifetime of law enforcement savvy to her in a manner of minutes, striking the right balance between caution and encouragement. He was a master at working people, she had to give him that. Or maybe he was just a master at working her.

Devon had not been pleased. He had argued that this time it was too dangerous. At one point he tried to forbid her from going undercover on this case. Bonnie couldn't help but worry that he was right. She'd been undercover a few times before and the people they'd gone after were never to be taken lightly. They were all brutal in their own ways and a slip up could always mean the worst, but there seemed to be a difference between playing a socialite to distract Simon Carascas, for example, and playing bait for a serial killer.

But then it was better not to think too deeply about that right now.

She heard a rustle to her left and froze for a second.

Nothing happened.

Bonnie counted three shaky breaths and then started walking again.

It could have been Michael. By now he had certainly made his way onto the tree-line paths and was shadowing her. Somewhere.

She allowed herself a glance over her shoulder through the blackness to where Kitt was waiting. There was nothing there that she could actually see. Maybe a bit deeper shadow or sheen to the black of the campus, something headlights from the street cut around, but she couldn't actually see Kitt anymore. She wished they had left his scanner running. It wasn't necessary for him to continue monitoring the area, but it was a reassuring beacon.

Sometimes going undercover was exciting. There was an appeal to it and a camaraderie in knowing that they were all dependent on each other to get the job done. It also eased the sense of guilt she sometimes carried. She was an important part of the Foundation, she didn't doubt that. She had a real and vital job to do, but Michael was out risking his life every day. Kitt was risking his existence. Devon got directly involved from time to time. She felt she needed to be willing to as well. Shouldn't she come out from the relative safety of the semi or the lab and actually help in a more direct way when needed? But then there was also the issue of training. Michael had years of special ops and police work under his belt. Devon spent years in occupied France and Kitt was designed for it. Bonnie was a scientist. She dealt with data and numbers, black and white. There was nothing black or white in knowing exactly what to say to allay a criminal's suspicions or how to act when a cover was blown.

That was the part of going undercover Bonnie wasn't so keen on. When something went wrong, it seemed like she had one chance to recover, one chance to say or do the right thing to get out unscathed. Those situations were truly frightening. They were on one hand really short – there wasn't much time to think – but on the other seemed to stretch to infinity in slow motion while she tried to figure out what to do. She hated having her mind race but not get where it needed to go fast enough. The proverbial frozen deer in headlights.

There was another snap behind her. Bonnie felt the skin at the nape of her neck prickle and knew someone was there just before a rough hand clamped down over her mouth and another grabbed her around the waist. She tried to pull away and scream but she was jerked back against her assailant and her scream was a muffled bray against his hand. Bonnie twisted and tried to use her elbows but she was outmatched. He lifted her off her feet and dragged her into the bushes. She was shoved face down on the ground and he straddled her, one hand still over her mouth. She heard the distinctive ripping sound of duct tape, fear coursing through her. Where was Michael? Was he nearby? She tried to roll over and throw her assailant off, but he was too strong and she didn't have the leverage on the ground. He pulled her head back and covered her mouth with the tape.

Bonnie knew the plan was to let him kidnap her. They had every reason to believe that he was taking his victims off campus before attacking them, although Michael was supposed to be somewhere nearby in case they were wrong on that. But here in the moment she couldn't quiet the desire to put up a fight, to try to get away. What if they lost her? What if Michael had tripped and bashed his head? What if Kitt's scanners had picked a really bad time to malfunction? With a serial killer on top of her it suddenly seemed like there were a thousand things that could go wrong.

The man grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and he ripped another piece of tape. She tried to break free but he managed to get the tape around her wrists, binding them together tightly. He leaned down next to her ear, smelling of stale cigarettes, his breath warm in her hair. "I like a little fight."

Bonnie shuddered and tried to swing at him with her bound fists, but he had her pinned down tightly. He bound her ankles and then reached under the bushes next to him and pulled out a large black canvas bag. He pulled it over her head and wrestled it over the rest of her body. She tried to kick him but it was no use. He dodged her clumsy attempt and then tied the bag closed. She couldn't see anything. He started to drag the bag along the ground and there was a clatter like aluminum cans next to her. Bonnie rotated with the direction of motion, feeling each bump along the path. She tried to quiet her breathing and think. Michael was out there. This was part of the plan. Unless she got into trouble immediately, they needed to see where he was taking his victims. They had reason to believe that he was keeping at least some of them alive as prisoners.

Bonnie was dragged over a large rock that scraped her whole leg. She tried to scream and fight again, but he kicked her through the bag.

After what seemed like a long time, he stopped dragging her. She heard what sounded like a large piece of metal banging against a wall, then a muffled swish and the sound of aluminum cans crashing together. There was a clang like a solid surface connecting with metal. He must have been dragging along other trash bags to mask that he was dragging a bag with a person in it. Bonnie was horrified by the ruthless simplicity. He'd look like a janitor and the rattling cans would mask any muffled screams. He must have just thrown those bags into a dumpster.

Then Bonnie was abruptly hoisted upward before falling and landing on a flat surface with some give. There was a solid thump and a latching sound. She was in a trunk.

Bonnie tried to concentrate on slowing her breathing. The engine started and they backed out of a parking space. He pulled up to what must have been the driveway and turned left. Bonnie closed her eyes and tried to picture Kitt behind them, quietly stalking the stalker, ready to bring this to an end. But of course, he wouldn't. Not until they reached the killer's hideout. She realized she was shaking and willed herself to calm down. This was all part of the plan.

~oOo~

"How is she?" Michael asked, fully aware that his own jaw was firmly set and his shoulders were a tense line across his rigid back. His eyes didn't waiver from the gray car three vehicles in front of them, not even to glance down at the voice modulator.

The brief pause before Kitt answered was not lost on him. "Her vital signs are elevated, as would be expected in a stressful situation."

"Any injuries when he abducted her?"

"It appears she sustained some scrapes and bruises in the initial attack and when he dragged her to the car. He kicked her after putting her in the bag, but other than that, she appears to be okay."

Michael let out a sigh.

"She'll be alright, Michael," Kitt said, gently.

"I know. Just don't lose him. We can't lose him."

"We won't, Michael."

~oOo~

Not knowing how long she was going to be locked in the trunk of a moving car, Bonnie's mind began to wander. She tried not to think about the things he'd done to his previous victims, but it was hard not to. She willed herself to banish those thoughts from her mind but she could feel her grip on her self-control slipping. She needed to think of something else. She pictured Michael and Kitt, hopefully right behind her, maybe so close that if she were able to open the trunk, she could reach out and touch Kitt's hood. She knew that wouldn't be the case, but it was a good thought anyway.

Bonnie decided that she might find something useful in the trunk. She rolled onto her side, so that she had some use of her hands. She felt along the edges of the trunk through the bag, scrounging for a sharp edge, a tire iron, a tool box, or some other means to cut the bag and the tape around her wrists. She pushed herself around the entire trunk but it was empty. Giving up that avenue, Bonnie twisted her hands to stretch out the duct tape. Back and forth, back and forth she twisted and the tape seemed to loosen, but not enough to get her hands free. She pulled as hard as she could and then started to feel panicky when she couldn't get her hands loose. It was making her feel claustrophobic. Bonnie bit back the urge to start screaming, afraid she wouldn't be able to stop. She gave up on fighting the tape, took some very deep breaths through her nose and tried to calm down again. She reminded herself that Kitt could probably tell from her vitals that she was panicking which was a little embarrassing. There was nothing to panic about. Michael and Kitt were right behind her. This was all part of the plan.

But what if they weren't? What if her attacker had lost them? What if Devon was right that this was a foolhardy plan?

Bonnie rolled onto her stomach, rested her forehead on the floor, and took three deep breaths. She just had to keep it together.

~oOo~

The road they were traveling was winding its way up into the mountains and Michael peered out into the darkness at the thick forest surrounding them. "We're getting pretty rural, here, pal. Any thoughts on where he's going?"

"No, Michael. Although a few of the victims' bodies were dumped along this highway so I would assume he's still leading us to his hideout.

They had fallen back to stay inconspicuous. Michael didn't like not being able to see the car himself. "No chance of us losing him, is there?"

"He's solidly within my sensor range, Michael."

"How's Bonnie?"

Again there was a pause. "Her condition is the same as before."

"What aren't you telling me?" Michael asked. He knew his partner too well. Even nearly infinitesimal hesitations could have meaning.

"Her vitals are consistent with someone in a high stress situation, Michael, but sometimes they spike, which would indicate an elevated fear response or panic."

Michael nodded. "I need to know that, pal. I need to know everything we're dealing with here."

"Of course, Michael. On the whole, I think she's fine, but there are temporary excursions."

"Okay. Tell me if that changes."

~oOo~

Bonnie rolled to her side to wait more comfortably. She wished she had some sense of how long she'd been in the trunk. It felt like forever, but was it one hour, two, a half? In the beginning they had been stopping for what she assumed were traffic lights, but now they had sped up and hadn't stopped for a while. Maybe they had reached some county highway. Somewhere remote. Of course.

She also wondered what to make of the fact that he had actually gone after her. She had heard when she was in college that attackers picked their victims carefully – almost like they had an animalistic ability to smell fear or lack of confidence. She didn't know if it was true or not, but it made her a little uncomfortable that she had actually passed for whatever a serial killer was looking for. She hoped it was just because she was playing the part and doing it well, but she couldn't help wondering.

Thankfully that line of thought ended when the car slowed and turned to the right. Then it started to pick up speed again, this time clearly on a gravel road. The tires crunched and bumped over the uneven surface, kicking up rocks that clattered against the underside of the car.

Part of her was grateful that he hadn't stopped yet. Another part of her just wanted this to be over.

After what had to have been several more miles, the car slowed and made a left turn. Then it rolled to a measured stop.

Bonnie couldn't help the chill that went through her. She tried to remember to breathe as she heard the car door open and close. It wasn't long before she heard the jangle of keys and the click of the trunk release. Bonnie was hauled up and dropped to the gravel ground. Then she was dragged again, the bits of rock digging into her side and legs, even through the bag. He stopped pulling her and she heard the creaking and cranking of a garage door going up. Then she was pulled over a bump onto a smooth surface.

Bonnie took several deep breaths, trying to gather her wits and strength and anything else she might need. She hoped that Michael and Kitt were right behind them but she didn't know that for sure. She might have to get by for a while on her own.

There was a dull rasp as the top of the bag was pulled open. She waited until he stripped the bag back over her head and then got her first good look at her assailant.

Ordinary. He looked completely average. That scared her as much as anything. A serial killer should have looked malevolent or evil in some way, but he looked like someone she wouldn't give a second thought to if they passed on the street.

Bonnie tried to fix the image of her assailant firmly in her mind in case she had to describe him. Brown hair cropped to an average length and pushed to the right side, slightly paunchy face, straight nose, medium set eyes. The appearance of normal, even though the reality was far, far different.

Then he looked down at her and grinned viciously. He hauled her out of the bag and produced a large knife. Bonnie tried to twist away from him but he slammed her face down on the concrete, scraping up her cheek and causing her to taste blood in her mouth. He pulled her bound arms upward and planted a knee firmly in the middle of her back. Bonnie had no idea what he was going to do next. She was starting to panic when he surprised her by cutting the tape that held her wrists together. Next he freed her ankles. Bonnie wanted to take the opportunity to escape but with his weight on her back there wasn't much she could do.

Then he slid the knife between Bonnie's throat and the floor. The cold of the flat edge was touching her skin.

"We're going to stand up. If you try anything, I'll slice you open and let you bleed to death on the floor."

Bonnie didn't doubt it for an instant. Blood thundered past her ears while she slowly got to her feet, trying not to let the blade touch her neck.

When they were both standing, he pulled her against him. Bonnie recoiled at having so much contact with him. She wanted to struggle, wanted to get away, but with the knife against her, she couldn't. He reached his free hand across her face and ripped the tape off her mouth.

Bonnie immediately screamed, "Heeeellllllp!" as loudly as she could. It took her a moment to realize that her attacker was laughing. She stopped screaming.

"I'll have to forgive you for having no idea where we are. Scream if you want," he said salaciously. "No one can hear you."

Bonnie sized up her surroundings. They were in a large, well-lit garage. The door was open and she could see the silhouette of a gray car in the driveway. Beyond that it was pitch black outside. The inside of the garage was sparse but there were a few tools - shovels, a thatch rake - that could be used as weapons. Several options if she could get away. Although hopefully Michael and Kitt would be there soon and she wouldn't have to.

~oOo~

They had followed the car out to the middle of nowhere in the mountains. They were now parked in a gravel driveway leading to a detached garage and a small dilapidated house. Michael was somewhat surprised to see that their killer had left the garage door open, light streaming out into the darkness. He could clearly see a middle aged man holding a knife tightly against Bonnie's neck. "Stay back far enough that he can't see us pal."

"Of course, Michael."

"How's she doing?"

"Based on her vital signs, I'd surmise that she's scared," Kitt answered dryly.

Ask a dumb question, Michael thought. Before he could respond, he was startled to hear someone screaming, "Help!" He crashed against the door, trying to push it open only a fraction of a second after Kitt had locked it down.

"She's okay, Michael. He just pulled the duct tape off her mouth. She's either acting the part or," he paused slightly, "reacting organically to the situation."

Michael let his hand relax from the door handle. His heart had thundered into his throat - 'reacting organically.' "Yeah. I'm right there with her. Let's say we get her out of there and end this, huh?"

"I agree completely," Kitt said.

"Any suggestions?"

"There's a side entrance to the garage behind where they're currently standing. It should give you the element of surprise."

"Thanks, pal. Relay our location to Devon."

"Already done and he says the authorities are on their way."

"Way ahead of me, as always."

"Michael, I've scanned the house. There are clearly two people in the basement."

The last two victims. "Are they alive?"

"Yes."

At least they had that. Michael quietly slipped out the driver's side door and slowly approached the garage. Hang in there, Bonnie, for just a few more minutes, he thought.

~oOo~

"We're going to make this a little more ... sporting," he whispered. Then Bonnie was shocked to be pushed forward, hard. She whirled around to face her attacker, not knowing what he was going to do. She was surprised to see him just standing there, knife in hand, horrible smirking smile on his face. "Run," he said, a leer curling the ends of his mouth.

And then Bonnie understood. He wanted to chase her down like a terrified animal. The blood rang through her head and her vision started to narrow. Time slowed and she froze. Run and be chased down, defenseless? Try to grab a shovel and stay and fight? What should she do? What was going to give her the best chance of ...

Suddenly something large and black flew at her assailant, knocking him to the ground. Michael! He landed a punch but the attacker kicked him off and lunged at him.

"Knife!" Bonnie heard herself scream.

The knife swung down and Michael raised an arm to try to deflect it, but by the way he jerked and yelled out Bonnie realized he must have suffered at least a glancing gash. She rushed to the wall of the garage and grabbed a shovel. Their attacker was raising his knife again as Michael struggled to kick him off. Bonnie swung the shovel, connecting with his arm, and sending the bloody knife flying into a corner with a clatter.

Michael used the momentary confusion to upend the attacker and punch him hard in the cheek. The man laughed. Michael hit him again. This time his eyes closed and he went limp.

Bonnie gripped the shovel, alert to any signs that the killer wasn't unconscious. Far off, she could hear sirens.

Michael stood and produced a pair of plastic zip ties from his jacket pocket. Bonnie took them and tied the man's hands tightly behind his back. She stood up and Michael immediately pulled her into a hug. She rested her head against his chest, aware that he was leaning a lot of his weight on her. She took in a deep breath, savoring the worn smell of his leather jacket, letting it help ground her.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked, his voice strained.

"I'm fine," Bonnie said, reluctantly pushing back from him and eyeing a jagged, blood-lined rip in his jacket. "But you're not."

"It's only a flesh wound," he joked, weakly.

"Michael?" came an urgent voice from his comlink.

"Yeah, pal,"

"We need to get you to the hospital."

"We need to check on the people in the house."

"Their vital signs are stable and the authorities are 43 second away. Devon's not far behind them. Let them take care of it. You need to get that wound looked at," Kitt chided, the worry apparent in his voice.

Michael sighed, which Bonnie took as acquiescence. She ducked under his arm and helped him out of the garage and back to Kitt.

~oOo~

Devon entered the hospital waiting room a harried, confused look darkening his face. Bonnie waited until he spotted her and then waved him over. He missed a step, probably at seeing the bandage on her cheek.

"Are you okay?" he asked as she rose and accepted his hug, the wool of his jacket scratchy but comforting on her good cheek.

"I'm fine," she said.

"And Michael?" he asked gravely.

"He was stabbed in the side, but it didn't hit anything major. They're stitching him up now." Which was why she was still at the hospital.

Devon looked pained.

"I was with him when he was first examined. The doctors said he was going to be fine. They said that there shouldn't be any long term effects other than a scar."

"Thank God," Devon said. Then he put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's length in front of him. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked sternly, probing her face.

"Yes, I'm fine. A few bruises and the scrape I got when he threw me to the concrete floor. But that's it."

He held eye contact for a few more seconds and then gave her another hug before sinking to the orange plastic waiting room chair. Bonnie took the seat next to him.

"What happened?" Devon asked.

Bonnie sighed. "He grabbed me from behind, tied me up, and stuffed me in a canvas bag."

Devon nodded, but Bonnie noticed that he looked a little pallid.

"Then he put me in the trunk of the car. When we got to his garage, he actually untied me. He wanted me to run so that he could chase me down. Those women must have been terrified."

"The authorities freed two of them from his basement," Devon said.

"Were they okay?"

Devon looked drawn and tired. "They're alive. They were taken to another hospital."

Bonnie nodded, getting the impression there were a lot more details he wasn't going to share.

"Bonnie, I don't want you going under cover anymore. It's just too dangerous in a situation like this."

"Devon-" she started, frustration overcoming her.

"You could have been seriously hurt."

Bonnie glanced at the doors to the ER proper where Michael was being stitched and then pointedly raised an eyebrow Devon's direction.

He bristled and then spoke with a cadence even more clipped than usual. "Bonnie, the current situation notwithstanding, it's irresponsible to minimize the risks you were facing. If Michael and Kitt had lost you or gotten too far behind..." He stopped, bent his head, and sighed. "You didn't see..."

Bonnie rested her hand on his forearm. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to goad you, Devon. I was noting the irony of the current situation, but that doesn't mean I think you were wrong. I probably had the thought that you were right at least a hundred times while in the trunk of that car tonight. I was scared and I'm not blind to what the risks were. If it weren't for Michael and Kitt being right behind me, I would have been in trouble. All that said, I wanted to help. I want to be a full contributing member of the Foundation."

"You are - by keeping Kitt in good working order. You don't have to go undercover."

"But sometimes it helps if I do."

Devon sighed. "Perhaps it's chauvinistic of me, and if so, I apologize, but I really don't want to see you hurt. Michael either, of course, but in some measure taking those risks is part of his job and he's well trained to do it. I guess I'm just not as prepared to see you in dangerous situations."

"I do appreciate the concern. I want to help where I can though. There are times when I can go undercover in situations where Michael can't, and I think, despite not having training, I've done pretty well."

Devon smiled slightly. "Kitt tells me you swing a mean shovel."

Bonnie felt her cheeks redden. "I just wish I had done it before Michael got hurt."

Devon nodded, and then said, "This is the fourth time you've gone under cover and I would argue, the most dangerous. If this is going to continue, perhaps we should consider getting you some training. I think it's also imperative that we all make sure the risks are carefully assessed before taking them."

"I agree with that. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared tonight or that I wasn't concerned that I'd gotten in over my head."

"I'm glad you both got out, more or less intact. You are both very dear to me."

"You're dear to us too, Devon," Bonnie said, resting her head briefly against his shoulder.

The door to the emergency area opened and Michael appeared, moving slower than his long stride typically allowed.

"Michael, are you alright?" Devon asked, quickly getting to his feet and resting a gentle hand on Michael's shoulder.

"Sixteen stitches, antibiotics, and some painkillers later, I'm more or less okay."

"They're letting you leave?" Bonnie asked, surprised.

He held out his discharge orders for them to inspect. "Official doctor's signature and everything."

"Now there's a first," Devon said wryly. "But are you really alright? I'm sure you must be in a lot of pain."

"I'm sure I'll feel it when the painkillers wear off, but I'm okay for right now."

"The authorities arrested your assailant, one Parker Mason, and freed two of his victims. They were searching the home and garage when I left," Devon said.

"Glad to hear it," Michael said, slowing turning toward the door. "And speaking of leaving . . ."

Devon and Bonnie followed him out. The lights on the hospital buildings brightened the area around the emergency entrance. The sky above them was dark, but there was a hint of light on the horizon. Kitt was waiting at the curb and Devon's limo was parked behind him.

"I'll check in with the authorities before heading back," Devon said. He glanced pointedly at Michael's side. "I assume you'll both be staying at the Foundation tonight?"

"Yes. For whatever's left of tonight anyway," Bonnie said, glancing skyward. She had her apartment, but she kept a stash of overnight things in her office so she could stay in one of the Foundation's guest rooms when needed.

"We'll make sure Michael gets home safely," Kitt said.

"I was discharged. I don't need a nursemaid," Michael protested.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a keeper," Devon deadpanned.

Michael rolled his eyes, a long suffering smile on his lips. "I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern, Devon."

Devon pause. "All kidding aside, I'm very glad you're okay."

"Thanks, Devon."

Devon split off to go to the limo and Michael and Bonnie headed toward Kitt.

"I don't know about you two, but I'm ready to go home." Michael pressed a hand to his side as Kitt opened the door for him.

"Of course, Michael. Allow me to drive," Kitt said as Michael got in gingerly. They pulled away from the curb and left the sprawling hospital complex. After they had safely merged onto the highway, Michael leaned back against the headrest. "Are you really okay?" he asked, glancing Bonnie's direction.

She was quiet for a moment. "Yes. That was definitely scary. I can't say I enjoyed it. But I'm okay."

"You handled yourself well." He was quiet for a moment. Then said, "Without your help, it would have taken us longer to get this guy. Because of you somewhere out there a woman had an ordinary, boring day instead of what would have been the worst day of her life."

Bonnie hadn't really thought of it that way, but Michael was probably right. It definitely put a different perspective on things and made most of the fear and discomfort worth it.

After several miles of silence, Michael spoke again. "So have we scared you off from undercover work completely or are you still willing to do something like this again?"

Bonnie took a moment before answering. "Being bait isn't my preferred day job, but if you need me to, yes." She rested her head against the passenger window. "I do trust you both to make sure I'm safe."

Michael put a hand on her arm. "We wouldn't put you in a situation unless we were very sure we could get you out of it," he said. "Right pal?"

"Of course." Kitt's voice modulator went dark for a moment. Then with more levity in his voice, he said, "I'm the only one Michael is allowed to damage."

"Who gave him that permission and how do I get it revoked?" Bonnie asked indignantly.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Hey, I'm just making sure you don't lose your preferred day job,"

"I don't think that's a worry," Kitt added, piling on.

Michael leaned back and closed his eyes. "Everyone picks on the injured guy."

The sun was just breaking over the horizon as they pulled into the circular drive in front of the Foundation's estate. Bonnie turned to tell Michael good night, or good morning as the case may be, but he was asleep in the driver's seat.

"I'll drive around to the garage, Bonnie," Kitt said in a whisper. "It's dark and quiet. He should be able to sleep."

Bonnie nodded. "I'll tell the technicians it's off limits until he wakes up." She carefully opened the door and quietly got out.

"Thanks for helping us," Kitt said.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue," she answered. She watched Kitt slowly pull away, driving a lot more deliberately than usual and waited until they disappeared around the corner towards the garage. Then she considered whether to go take a nap or get herself some coffee. After a minute of deliberation she decided on the later. There was a new enhancement for Kitt's facial recognition software she wanted to get started on and she was still wired and out of sorts. It would feel good to get lost in a methodical task that required her complete concentration.

Putting her all into her job, day or otherwise, was definitely part of her plan.

-knightshade

Nov 23, 2014


End file.
